The Perks of Being Ignored
by Hammerin
Summary: Mercedes is a wallflower, always will be. Sometimes one action, one word, one thing, changes everything. Sometime that thing is purpose. And it's name is Sam. Rated - M for Mature .
1. Chapter 1

The strength of being loved is great, and is dealt upon. You breathe it and lather in it. Forgetting everything that was in your past, skipping around everything that falls in your path. The pain of being forgotten is love. Love for the person you have forgotten. Love for the person who has forgotten you. Love for the hand that brings remembrance, and the thoughts that fill you with joy. Being ignored? That's a completely different thing.

Mercedes scoffed under her breath. Being ignored is a vast adventure. The silence that fills your ears, and reaches to your toes is a heinous crime. You don't know what they're thinking or what the situation is. You'd rather be yelled at, screamed at, beaten. Terrorized, anything. Your banging on a door! , see me! Look at me! Love me! But, they don't see you. They don't look at you. They'll never love you. When all you have is one person, who you think may care, and all you can do, is treat them with the love they deserve, and its never given back. Your ignored.

"Mercedes get up." Brittany said, shoving Mercedes arm. Mercedes looked upon Brittany, and politely picked up her things. Trailing behind Brittany, slowly, Mercedes began to leave their 3rd period. Mrs. Dawson's eyes trailed after Mercedes, and her lips called after her. Her brain dedicated a thought process. And she went off mumbling to Mercedes, "Your failing my class, Mrs. Jones. Alert your parents as soon as possible, you'll need to stay after school, until I find it necessary that you need not to."

A confused, look deigned her face. "For what?"

"Tutoring."

The bell rang again, and Mercedes began to run. If she was late to fourth period, Mr. Yallow would have her ass. Thighs thundering in the wind, air in, air out. She heard a whistle, down the hall. Not a mechanical whistle but a whistle from someone's mouth. Dropping books, heaving, nearly throwing up, she turned around. Here come strolling Noah Puckerman, Sam Evans, and Finn Hudson. "Sexy lady running, we see." Finn said first, cat calling from afar. As they approached her, Mercedes thought about running away, but the thought was abandoned quickly. Sam was the one to approach her first. His green daggers, piercing into her soul. Walking to her. He stood in front of her and breathed in her, peach crème lotion. Going down on her, her breath halted. Finn winked at her, and Mercedes couldn't breathe. Picking up her fallen books, Sam raised back up, 5 books in one hand, the other hand on his knee for support.

"Lets walk, pretty young thang' to class, huh?" Puck beckoned to the boys. The tone in his voice, screamed out authority. He was their leader, ad Mercedes didn't know why she was their target.

Keeping her stuff, Sam walked back to class with his company. Behind Mercedes the whole time, Sam was supplying the security Mercedes prayed for. Getting to her teachers class, the boys circled her. Mercedes grabbed the door handle. 'We're in school they can't do anything to me,' she thought. Turning the door handle, in the eerie silence, Puck stopped her.

"Tssk, tssk." Finn waved his finger back in forth, taunting her.

"You need a note, baby girl," Puck ripped off a poster from the nearest wall, dug in his pocket for a pen, signed 'Mrs. Dawson, 3rd period' on it, and handed it to Mercedes. Sam handed Mercedes her stuff.

"See you later." Sam said. They disappeared as quickly as they had come. Slowly entering Mr. Yallow's class, and flashing the note to him, Mercedes sat in her seat. Her seat in the front. Where everybody could see her, but nobody did see her. Because nobody cared.


	2. Chapter 2

"You will be here until 5pm. That gives you time to finish your worksheet, and any homework. I'll be in the teachers lounge. Stay quiet, for I will be checking on you frequently!" Mrs. Dawson shouted to the only two figures in her class. 'Sounds like detention to me' Mercedes thought. Mrs. Dawson walked out of the class, but Mercedes already knew where she was going. Because, getting high in the basement, was all she ever did after her son died.

In the back of the class, sat a red jacket. That's how Mercedes described people nowadays. By their clothes, air, or looks. Turning around slightly to put a name to that jacket, she found it was Sam Evans.

Breathing slowly, she turned back around. Not quickly enough.

"I saw you looking back here."

"Sorry." Mercedes said quickly, picking up her pencil, and quickly writing.

"You're fine. Don't be frightened." Sam said, seeing her shaking slightly. Mercedes thought his sentence was weird, why would she be frightened?

"Why would I be frightened?" She asked out loud.

"Everyone tends to be these days." Sam replied. The room fell silent for awhile, and Mercedes was unaware to Sam's eyes working up her ass, up her spine. Begging for a peak, and craving for her touch. She wasn't like most girls, she was different. She was quiet, and wasn't loud. She wasn't begging to be seen, and her curves were what made her. Her chocolate skin, looked like a dream, that could melt in anybody's mouth.

She was fat. Sam could admit that. But, he had his own demons, and her weight probably killed her more then he could imagine. He liked them thick.

Which reminded him of the reason, he'd been single half the time since moving to Lima. His cousin, Liam, and deemed him as a 'nigger lover', when he'd told him that Rhonda Martinson was pretty. Rhonda was like no other girl at Tennessee Light Middle. She had curves, and curly hair that hit her mid back. A smile that brightened halls, and brown eyes that sparkled. Caramel skin, and abnormally large feet. No doubt she was gorgeous, but no one would admit it. It was the south, and you were expected to stick to your own kind there. So Rhonda ended up dating Treshaun White, the best basketball player at school. No match for geeky Sam Evans. So, moving to Ohio was not big deal. After moving here, things weren't different. If anything, they were worse. So, he did what he did back in Tennessee. He played football, and did track. Dated Quinn his junior year, and started hanging out with Puck and Finn. It was the beginning of his senior year, and he questioned himself on why he was just seeing Mercedes now.

Mercedes felt eyes in her back, and knew Sam was looking at her. Busy writing in answers, and reading problems, she ignored it. Until she heard his voice erupt her thought process.

"Come here." Sam shouted to her. Without recognition, Mercedes stood with one of her books, and walked to him. Sam switched to the seat beside his, and patted his previous place. Letting her sit.

"Hey," Sam whispered. Surprisingly, Mercedes ignored him. Which, he expected. He was a stranger, she didn't know him. Mercedes scribbled circles on her paper, unaware of his intense gaze.

"Wanna' read the story we're assigned this week?" Sam asked.

Mercedes shrugged, and Sam took that as a good answer. He picked up the book from his side, and read. Ever so clearly, as though rather then reading it, he had remembered it.

"_There is, on rare occurrence, when nothing else matters. That moment, in which the phone drops from your hand, leaving the ringing running through your head. When your knees buckle, and the rumbling begins. Your emotions, a frenzy. Your heart a never ending race against your chest. Something's never change, and other just can't stay the same. Your physical body is unaware, and you get up. You walk to the bed, and the covers begin to fly off. The blankets, followed by the covers, followed by the mattress itself. The frame is broken into pieces, and the head board a mess of wood, paint, and wood carvings hitting the floor. The monster that has done this, you are unaware of. But, your hands tell a different story. Blistered and torn, you feel nothing. You walk to the desk, where diaries are open, flipped through, and rummaged. One by one they are torn, thrown off the desk. Stepped on, bitten into, and, ripped up turning them into confetti. Pencils, pens, markers, hair pens, bracelets, hair bows, lost papers, candy, and everything else you find on the desk is thrown at or around the room. The desk is barren, the mirror and the desk is alone by itself. The anger is built in, and as you become a legal weapon, your fist makes contact with the mirror. Your hair, your eyes, your shirt, your skin, becomes disoriented. Your world is crashing down and around, and all you can see is your deformed face dripping with red on the front of the mirror. Turning, around you see the mess. And you start the process again. The bed and the mirror are unavailable. Your smirk is undeniable as you realize, your closet. Thousands of dollars worth of clothes are ripped, torn, stomped, on and ruined with the red dripping ooze. The closet is empty, so you head to your drawers. The party has only begun, when underwear and socks start to rain down. Stashed money, and never ending pennies. The process begins again, the emotional wreckage, and then the physical. This time, there is nothing to break physically. So you break yourself. At this point your body is cut bruised and broken. You can only do worse, as you hit yourself, and cut your skin, your knees buckle and the rumbling stops. The phone is still on the ground, and she is still on the line. Her voice comes out broken and distraught, and you know she has heard everything that has happened and you can't deny it. You begin to shake, and tears feel your eyes. From the phone in the distance, the one thing in your world, which remained unbroken you remember her voice, "Cassidy, he's dead."_

"That's just slightly, depressing. Don't you think?" Sam said. Mercedes looked straight at her paper, still ignoring Sam. Sam feeling annoyed, and hated, went back to his work.

3 hours pass quickly when your ignored. You forget everything, and your life is pitch black. All that exists is you, and the darkness. It calls to you, and beckons you to join it. You lose your self. Its that easy. Drawing yourself back to reality is the hard part. So, when Mrs. Dawson walks in, Sam and Mercedes crawl from the hole. The grave they have dug for themselves. The grave that is marked, with 'Someone lies here. You don't care though. Forget.'

She says tutoring is over for the day, and to return tomorrow. Because behind tomorrow lies a new day, they say. But the only thing, they can think is, _and you can't deny it. _Because, somewhere deep down, they know, they've found their match. Their love. Destiny. Hope. Survival. And it's the person beside them. _And you can't deny it. _


	3. Chapter 3

"I see we have our eyes, on young Quinn." Puck said to Finn. Finn smiled, and went back to picking up his gym bags. Because Finn had never had a girlfriend, he didn't know how much better he could do. None of the guys would listen to what Sam had to say about Quinn. The bitch she was, and the ways she had put him down. The transgressions, and rude remarks that led to most of his depression his junior year. They never believed him. They ignored what he had to say, and took her for her looks. Obviously, the cute blonde with the nice ass couldn't be mean. Couldn't be the devil in a bottle. No. Never. Sam pushed the images of the blonde out of his head. He stood at his locker in the back of the gym, and built up some amount of courage.

"What are we doing with Mercedes?" That stopped everything and everyone in their tracks. Nobody, ever, ever questioned Puck's motives. You did what he said, no questions asked. Puck stared at Sam for a few seconds, "Nothing. I like to play around, and girls like to feel special." Finn laughed for no reason, and suddenly a bulb clicked in his head, an idea that Puck thought was good. Finn told Puck his idea, and watched Sam turn from stationary to pissed the fuck off.

"Hold up! You expect me, to pretend like I like her? Get her into me, and then dump her?"

"Just be like, sike! Bitch got played." Finn said, hysterically Puck patted his back.

"Bitch got played." Puck repeated after Finn, nearly in tears. It was a good idea, Puck thought. Obviously, Sam didn't like her. No feelings hurt. For him at least.

"What if I say no?" Sam said, interrupting Puck's thoughts.

Puck laughed. "You wont." Picking up his gym bag, prepared to go to his wrestling practice, Puck stuck his arm in between the three. Finn layered his hand in next, and Sam last.

"Intimidation."

"Pain."

Sam stuttered at his part, almost refusing to say it. "Gain."

Puck walked out of the gym, leaving Sam and Finn alone. "So, what's Quinn like?" Finn asked.

"I don't see why your asking. You're gonna get with her anyways."

Finn laughed, but awkwardly stopped when Sam wouldn't join in. "True." Finn walked out leaving Sam by himself, Sam sat alone. Picking up his last bag, Sam cracked his knuckles. Deciding against going to tutoring today, he walked out of the Gym, and into the halls. "Fuck."

* * *

Mercedes had gone home with Brittany instead of going to tutoring that day. Brittany was Mercedes only true friend. Obviously, the clumsy blonde wasn't the brightest, but she was nice to Mercedes. She failed to realize Mercedes wasn't popular, or anything. But she hung out with her. Brittany had begun to distance herself from Mercedes, and was taking a liking to mean girl Santana Lopez. Ditching Mercedes, and pretending it had been a joke. Or something that had happened on accident. Brittany wasn't as dumb, as she played. Mercedes knew that, but she'd rather be forgotten by her friend, then ignored by her parents. Brittany had scheduled to go to Santana's house later that afternoon, but had actually warned Mercedes prior to it. Mercedes compromised with Brittany and decided that they would spend the afternoon together, instead of Mercedes going straight home.

"Want to go to Portley's?" Brittany asked already pulling into Portley's parking lot. Nobody cared for opinion much, so she shrugged at Brittany. Quickly getting out the car, the two went inside and ordered food. Brittany talked the whole time. About Mr. Tubbington, Santana, The Cheerios, and basically anything that came to her mind. Mercedes was secretly yearning for Brittany to ask her something. Anything. So, instead she interviewed herself.

**Tell us about, Sam Evans. **

_Sam? Oh, Sam. He's a genuine sweetheart. Nothing like the guys he hangs out with. I don't know him much, but he is sweet. And nice. And funny. And cute. Really, really, cute. He'd never go for a girl like me. He likes them stick skinny. And white. Rosy cheeks, and love at their lips. Nothing like me. But, don't fret. He'll find his love one day, and I'll find my cats. Hah, we'd have cute kids, though. The caramel skin, cute lips. Curly brown and blonde hair. But, I'm nothing to him. Like I'm nothing to anyone. So, Sam Evans. Really? Theirs nothing to tell._

The meal went by quickly, and Brittany favorably dropped Mercedes off at her house. Mercedes was not to enthused about going home. She dug her key out of the bottom of her purse, and pushed it into the lock. The door wasn't locked so it came wide open. By the trail of blood, up the white carpet stairs, Mercedes knew her parents were fighting. She had no idea about what, but they were.

"YOUR SECRETARY!" Lydia Jones shouted. Mercedes cringed when she heard a loud slap, and a thud. Knowing it was to much, she sat her books down, and went to the basement. Last time, Mercedes tried to interfere she left with a black eye. She loved her Mom, but her Mom wouldn't leave. And her Dad couldn't stop. Turning on the TV in the basement, she locked the door, and tried to tune out everything. That was one of the perks of being ignored. Nobody ever cared, and when they did, they still didn't.


End file.
